Our eye — or better our nose — dwells on this youngster, allowing us to bottle yet another iteration of our philosophy of Islay, the queen of Scotland. We stand before a young, arrogant and daring Caol Ila.
Despite its youth, the mastery conferred by wood presents us with a slightly peaty note. In addition, we sense shy hints of yeast, butter and smoked meats reminiscent of our hearth after last night’s fire is spent. And now almond, hazelnut and candied fruit.
The saline plane surprises us in terms of equilibrium and harmony. Suggestions of herring and anchovy, a classic marina scent with flashes of the mineral.
Those caper bushes descending towards the Sicilian sea are now evoked. To the right the Pillars of Heracles. To the left, the mysterious and intriguing East.
There is a narrow border between the ocean and the sky which is lighter and therefore easy to identify. Some may say that Brittany is where we can best learn to distinguish this.
Antonio W. Bleve